Consequences
by know1knows
Summary: John could still remember the first time he knew he was going to be in trouble. Dean's first day of kindergarten. Preseries. John POV.


_Don't own any of them. Or anything to do with Supernatural or its characters. (Life is so unfair!)_

_Not making any money from this. Just playing._

_Not sure how amusing this story is, but anyway...here it is..._

* * *

**Consequences**

John could still remember the very first time he knew he was in trouble.

Dean's first day of kindergarten.

He'd walked his oldest son to school and waited with him in the yard until the bell rang. Then they'd trudged inside with the rest of the kindergarten students and their parents where they d milled around the hallway and waited for the classroom door to open. Dean had found some kid to talk to and John had become lost in his own thoughts. Until he had been drawn out of his reverie by this incessant and increasingly annoying giggling. Lots of giggling. Sheepish giggling. Little girl giggling.

So he'd glanced around the hallway to see what could possibly be so amusing and immediately noticed that most of the girls were gathered into a group; their eyes darting back and forth at something across the hallway while they whispered and snickered behind their little cupped hands. John watched them for a minute or so before his curiosity got the best of him and he turned to see what they were looking at. But all he could see was Dean who was now standing all alone, the boy he'd been talking to gone off to talk to someone else. Puzzled, John glanced back at the girls. And then back to Dean.

Until there was no doubt left in his mind: the girls were definitely staring at his son.

Which made John wonder why Dean had been singled out. What could possibly be wrong with him that so many of the girls were focusing so intently on him? Had he missed something as he'd gotten him ready for school? Were his clothes dirty? Ripped? Too discernibly second-hand? But try as he might, John just couldn't pinpoint anything. Dean didn't look any different than any of the other kids.

Maybe it because he was the new kid at school.

But they were all new. This being kindergarten and all.

Before he had a chance to figure it out, the classroom door swung open and the teacher ushered her young students inside. And Dean had disappeared into the classroom with the rest of the children. So John turned to leave. And that was when some lady beside him had piped up:

"I think my daughter is smitten with your son. And I don't think she's the only one either."

So that was it.

At the tender age of five, the girls were already tantalized with Dean.

And _that_ was going to lead to trouble.

Just as soon as Dean figured it out.

But, John had been lucky that day. Because, when he picked Dean up and asked him what he thought of school, Dean had replied:

"Too many girls."

Which really shouldn't have surprised John as much as it did. It wasn't like Dean had ever been around many girls. Most of the time it was just him and John and Sammy. And most of John's friends and acquaintances were men. Single men with no families. So Dean hadn't really had that much interaction with girls. But John still had to admit he found it rather amusing that that was what had made the biggest impact on Dean the very first time he went to school. And as they walked home, John couldn't help wondering just how long Dean was going to feel that way. And exactly when the trouble would start.

Sixth grade.

That was when Dean finally decided that maybe girls weren't so bad after all. It had started one day when he'd come home from school talking nonstop about some girl in his class. And he had gone on and on like a broken record about how pretty she was and how much he liked her. He was going to ask her to the school dance that Friday. And could he please get a new shirt to wear because he just didn't have anything good enough to wear if he was going to ask her to go with him. His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when he so proudly announced to both him and Sammy that she had agreed to go with him. Even though he was going to have to meet her there and her parents were picking her up as soon as the dance was over.

That had been Dean's first date. And the onset of John's grief.

But it was only the beginning. John knew that. And he wasn't wrong; Dean had been completely infatuated with that girl. He ate his lunch with her. He walked her home. He even carried her books for her. He took Sammy to the park more often than he usually did just so he'd be able to meet her there. And he told everyone who'd listen she was his girlfriend. She'd been his first love and John tried rigorously to remember her. He thought her name had been Penny. Or Peggy. Paula? Maybe Patricia.

Beverley. That was it.

But given their ages at the time, it really hadn't been anything too serious. Especially seeing as the girl's parents really didn't want her dating. So, in public, they acted like they were just friends. But John knew better. Because he could remember the first time he'd been love-struck too. And he hadn't acted much differently than Dean. Except that he had been enamored with the girl for the better part of a year and a half. Dean only lasted a couple of months. Then he'd found some girl named Susan. Or Sally. Or something like that. She'd lasted about a month. Until some other girl caught his eye. And he romanced her for a couple of weeks before moving on to someone else. Who he dropped just as soon as a new girl came along. And that quickly became his pattern. One that he repeated over and over again.

John had never been so grateful as when that school year finally ended.

And they moved.

To a completely different state.

Not that things had been any different there. Dean continued to charm the girls. Getting better and better at it as time went along. But he was easily distracted. He changed girlfriends like most guys change their underwear. John gave up trying to keep track of all the girls he took out. Or even bothering to learn their names. Because it just wasn't worth it. By the time he'd committed one girl's name to memory, she was already history. And Dean was involved with someone else. Who, if he actually got to meet her, John would inevitably make the unforgivable mistake of calling the wrong name. And then you would have thought he'd committed a cardinal sin or something equally unforgivable. Because Dean would be so angry that he would stop speaking to him. At least for a while.

Until he moved onto someone else.

It was around that time that John decided it would probably be a good idea to get Dean actively involved in some of his hunts. Not that he hadn't been helping out for a while. But helping out was different than actually being involved. Because he'd have to learn a lot more about what they were hunting. Spend a bit of time planning the hunt; developing strategies and working with John. The plan was to give him something else to think about. Something else to occupy his time. And, hopefully, take his mind off the girls.

It had worked for a while. Dean had taken to hunting like a duck takes to water. He was a natural. He threw himself into hunting with an enthusiasm that amazed John. He had finally found something other than girls that he really enjoyed. And it hadn't taken him long to become proficient. And skilled. Which only succeeded in increasing his confidence.

And that's when everything backfired.

Because Dean took his newly-acquired confidence right back with him into the dating game.

And that was, of course, all part and parcel of what had led up so eloquently to this point in time...

An irate father pounding on their front door in the middle of the night. Yelling and screaming something about his daughter having gone out with Dean and not coming home on time. And he was demanding to know where she was. Right now.

_But how the hell was John supposed to know that?_

Of course, she _was_ out with Dean. Which meant that John was going to have to open the door and deal with this man. And not in the way he really wanted to either. Not like he dealt with every other thing that normally pissed him off. He was actually going to have to bite his tongue and be civil to the man. Even if he had just been awakened from the first sound sleep he'd had in a very long time.

By an incensed father who sounded something like a rabid dog. And looked it too.

So John took a deep breath and opened the door. He attempted to calm the man down. To get him to stop yelling long enough that he'd be able to get a word in edgewise. He cast the overly distraught man a sympathetic look and a concerned smile before inviting him inside. There was no sense leaving him out there to wake up the neighbors. They were already suspicious enough about his strange comings and goings. He didn't need this to add fuel to the fire. At least, not until after he decided whether or not he was going to help this man build a funeral pyre.

And as soon as he came inside the man calmed down a bit. At least he stopped yelling. He apologized to John for showing up on his doorstep at such an ungodly hour of the night. But he hoped John would understand. His daughter had missed her curfew. By an awfully long time too. And he didn't have any idea where she was. Only that she was out on a date with the teenage boy who lived here. He knew this was where he lived because she had pointed it out to him earlier that day when they had driven past. He had actually come here hoping to find her. Or, at the very least, to find out if the boy's parents knew where their son and his daughter might be.

But as he blurted out his rational for coming here, the man started to come unglued again. Until he reminded John of a cornered werewolf. And an angry one at that. Because the man was really angry now. Angry enough to seriously contemplate tearing Dean to pieces as soon as he found him.

Now _that_, John could help with.

As the girl's father once again tried to control his anger, John carefully suggested that there had to be a perfectly logical explanation for his daughter to have missed her curfew. In the most persuasive and consoling voice he could muster up in the middle of the night and still being half-asleep, John assured the man that Dean wouldn't have kept his daughter out this late unless there was a valid reason. Because Dean really wasn't that kind of boy. He was actually pretty responsible.

John just didn't want to think about what he might be responsible for.

So, instead, he stated calmly yet again that there had to be a completely legitimate reason for his daughter to have missed her curfew. And for her to still be out with Dean. Perhaps the car had broken down. After all, it was a pretty old car. And, even though he tried his best to keep it in tip-top shape, old cars could have an endless amount of problems.

_And speaking of problems with old cars…_

John suddenly wondered what the hell had he been thinking when he had given the Impala to his 17-year-old son. Given it to him so that he had it all the time. And go anywhere he pleased with it. Do anything he wanted. And that's what was bothering John now. Because the Impala's backseat just happened to be bigger than most people's couches were nowadays. And much more private too. So if he had planned on giving Dean free reign with that car, he might just as well have rented him his own motel room. And bought him a box of condoms to go along with it.

Now, _that_ one might not be such a bad idea.

Because, truth be told, John couldn't say that he was a hundred percent positive that he wasn't already a grandfather. That he didn't already have at least one grandchild out there somewhere in any number of unknown states.

Deciding it best not to dwell on that thought, John turned his attention back to the matter at hand. He calmly explained to the girl's father that Dean had a cell phone. He'd just call him up and find out exactly where they were. And why they hadn't come home yet. He'd have it all be cleared up in a minute. And that seemed to appease the man. Because John saw him relax a bit. And that was good.

Because…

John knew that the real issue was not phoning Dean. It was whether or not he would actually answer his phone. And, if he didn't, John didn't have any idea what he was going to tell the man. He just knew the man wouldn't take it very well. Probably act as malevolent as some of the things John usually hung out with at night. Hoping he didn't look as apprehensive as he felt, John nevertheless picked up his cell phone and dialed Dean's number.

One ring. Two rings. _Three.._.

John glanced at the girl's father

_Four…_

He gave him a slight smile

_Five…_

Maybe he really wasn't going to answer.

"Hello."

"Dean? Where are you?"

"At the park. Why? What's up?"

"You're stranded on the highway just outside Montgomery?" asked John quizzically.

"_Montgomery?_" queried Dean perplexed, "_Who said anything about Montgomery?_ I told you…I'm at the park. Right here in town."

"What were you doing in Montgomery?" continued John undeterred.

"Dad, I wasn't in Montgomery. I've been in town all night. I'm at the park. Just sittin' at the beach with Carol."

"You're going to have to speak up, Dean. There's a lot of static on the line and I'm having a hard time making out what you're saying."

"I can tell that."

"Did you say you'd been visiting friends in Montgomery and the car broke down on your way home?"

"No, Dad. I said I'm at the park. And, the car's just fine by the way. But…you care to tell me what's goin' on?"

"What time was that?"

"What time was _what?_" sighed Dean, completely lost

"And, it never occurred to you to call and let someone know?"

"Dad? Are you sure you're all right? You didn't fall and hit your head, did you? Maybe you should let me talk to Sammy."

"And you've been working on the car the entire time?"

There was a pause before Dean answered. "Okay. Ya got me. Because I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Do you think you'll have it running soon?"

"Ya know Dad…It'd be real nice if you'd just tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Have you figured out what's wrong with it?"

Dean sighed. "Sorry Dad…but I'm not even gonna try to answer that. Because it's obvious to me that we're having two completely different conversations. And even if I do answer you, you'll just say somethin' else that doesn't make any sense. So…go ahead. Say somethin'. I'm listenin'."

"Do you want me to come out and help you?"

"Help me with _what_?

"You really should have called Dean. At least let me know what was going on."

"Funny. 'Cause that's exactly what I'd like to know."

"Because then I could have called your girlfriend's parents and let them know what had happened. And why you were going to be late. "

"First off, Dad…she's _not_ my girlfriend. And, secondly, what is it that we're going to be late for?"

"Her parents are worried, Dean. She was supposed to be home a long time ago."

"How do you know that?"

"Her father's here right now."

"_Ohhh…shhhit!_"

"Yeah…I guess you could say he's a little upset."

"So, umm…that's what this phone call is all about," stammered Dean. "To give me an alibi, right?"

"Hold on a sec," stated John before he covered the phone with his hand and spoke to the girl's father, "Dean hasn't been able to get the car going. I don't think he has the right tools. I'm just wondering….Were you planning on driving out to get your daughter?"

The man closed his eyes and sighed before he slowly nodded his head and said, "I think that would probably be a good idea."

John couldn't tell by his response if the man was relieved or just annoyed. Either way it didn't matter. The man had bought his entire story, falling for it hook, line and sinker.

So John asked hesitantly, "Would you mind giving me a lift out? That car's our only vehicle and I'd really like to see if I can get it started before I call a tow truck. But if it's too much trouble, I can just call a cab."

"No, there'd be no point to that. I'm heading out there anyway. I'll take you," answered the man curtly before enquiring. "Where exactly are they?"

John put the phone back to his mouth, "How far out of Montgomery are you?"

"How far do you want me to be?"

"About a mile this side? Okay. I'm gonna get a lift out with the girl's father. I just have to grab a few of my tools first. Then we'll be on our way. Should be there in about 20 minutes."

"Great. That'll give me just enough time to make it out there ahead of you," breathed Dean with a sigh of relief. "And, uh…thanks, Dad."

"You just might wanna stifle that last thought," replied John bluntly before he slammed the phone shut.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

As they approached, John could see that the Impala parked haphazardly on the side of the road giving the distinct impression that it had coasted to a stop right where it sat. It really looked like Dean had just been able to maneuver it off the highway after it died but hadn't been able to get it completely straightened out.

And as they pulled up in front of it, both John and the girl's father saw Dean leaning into the engine compartment. Making it look like he was fiddling around with something under the hood. But just as soon as the lights of the car came up behind him, Dean turned around and wiped his hands on his jeans.

Nice touch. Filthy engine grease all down his front. No one could say he wasn't smart.

At least smart enough to know how to cover his ass.

They stopped about ten feet from the Impala and both John and the girl's father got out. John walked over to where Dean was standing while Dean's date hurried over to her father. They were having a slightly heated argument before John nudged Dean and told him he better go speak to the girl's father. Dean hesitantly wandered over to them and apologized for not thinking to let anyone know what had happened. He explained that while he had been working on the car, he had lost track of time and simply hadn't realized just how much time had actually passed. He was sorry for making him worry and hoped he wouldn't blame his daughter for what had happened. But the man glared angrily at him before he huffed back an inaudible reply and told his daughter to get in the car. Then he walked past Dean and asked John if there was anything more he could do before he took his daughter home.

John tastefully declined his offer to help, telling him that he was sure he and Dean would be able to get the car going. There wasn't much that he hadn't had to fix on the car at one time or another and he was positive that this time wouldn't prove to be any different. But, if it turned out they couldn't get it going, he'd just call a tow truck and they'd catch a ride back with the driver. John thanked the man for the lift and once again offered him an apology for his son's lack of consideration. They shook hands before the man returned to his car and pulled onto the highway. As soon as the car had turned around and was out of sight, John glanced at Dean and headed over to the Impala.

"You didn't actually do anything to it did you?"

"No Sir."

"Good," replied John bluntly. "You got are the keys?"

"They're in the ignition."

John walked over to the car and reached through the driver's window to grab the keys before he went around and opened the trunk. He told Dean to pick up all his tools and put them in the truck. Then he walked briskly back to the side of the car and got in. He sat patiently in the driver's seat and waited while Dean finished his task. When Dean closed the trunk, John started the car and watched in the mirror as Dean walked up to the passenger door and tried to open it.

But the door was locked. And the window had been rolled up most of the way.

Dean bent down and peered in at his father, "Dad, the door's locked."

"Exactly," affirmed John without moving.

"You gonna open it?"

"Nope."

"Then how am I gonna get in?"

"You're not," answered John as he put the car into gear and slowly started to drive off.

"_I'm not?_" queried Dean as he jogged alongside the Impala trying in vain to open the door, "Then how am I supposed to get home."

"Better start walkin'. And I expect to see you home before dawn," replied John sternly before he sped up and left Dean standing on the side of the dark and desolate highway.

"You can't be serious!" called Dean futilely as he stared at to the rapidly receding tail lights of the Impala, "_It's over ten miles!_"


End file.
